Melody of Oblivion
by Kitsune Yarisha
Summary: It’s been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the manwholived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. But who does he remember from his dreams?
1. Chapter 1

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Prologue: **Awakening

"A man is not always asleep when his eyes are shut." – Unlisted

--

Hermione Granger, a now plump and good-natured witch, sat down slowly in the visitor's chair. She rubbed her aching stomach for a moment before brushing her curly brown bangs out of her face to see her friend.

For a long time, four years exactly, he had been in a comatose.

He was physically fine of course. His body had grown and he was well taken care of. The doctors, each of them, had promised her that he would soon awaken.

She ran a hand over her large, swollen stomach and idly wondered what her dear friend had been dreaming of for the last four years, if he had dreamt at all.

She shrugged off the curiosity and began to speak to the dark haired boy on the bed.

--

It started again.

The mumbling of almost coherent words in the back of Harry's mind.

Out of the curiosity, he pulled the words closer to his mind and listened, as he always did.

"Harry?" A familiar voice called to him. His physical body twitched mildly in response, aching to move. He ignored it and waited for the comforting voice to continue. "Oh, Harry! It's your twenty-first birthday today. Some people have already brought you gifts." It paused.

Harry strained to hear anything from the sudden silence. A sob made it into his hearing, startling him slightly. A door creaked open, from his physical left, and a gasp sounded out.

"Oh, Ron!" It shrieked, "I can't take this anymore. All I can think of is a corpse!" His right hand twitched in surprise at Ron's name.

"Hermione, love! It's okay. He's fine." The second voice replied evenly.

Despite his want to stay unnoticed, his eyes fluttered and his body jerked into an upright position. He gasped as he brought his hands to his face, shaking his head wildly. His body shook violently.

"Harry!" He heard Ron shout from next to his bed.

No, not his bed. He wasn't at home.

Hermione swallowed audibly and gasped out, "Oh, Harry, are you really awake?"

Tears leaked from his emerald colored eyes. He wiped his tears from his face as best as he could. He looked up and stared at them. His mouth worked frantically but only a small rasping noise came from his throat.

Hermione wailed, "He's mute!"

Ron shot her a sorrowful look. Harry looked up at Ron, who had changed so much. His best friend looked so much older and his eyes held a searching look; a look only a teacher or father might have.

Hermione had changed also; her rounded belly made it obvious she was pregnant. As his mind protested, he pulled forward the memory of her visit when she announced it. He tried to speak once more. He pleaded for his voice to come out, if not for him then for Hermione.

"H…ey, Ro…n." The room went dead silent. He continued slowly, "H…i, Her…mi…on…e."

Her eyes glittered and she immediately staggered up out of the chair and hugged him.

He groaned under her weight.

She pulled back and perched on the edge of the bed. "Harry, how do you feel?" She asked, wiping her eyes on the back of her red sleeve.

He smiled and shrugged, "I do…n't k…now."

"That's quite alright, mate!" Ron piped in.

"Wha…t happe…ned?"

"The Dark Lord happened. A spell he used, or so they say, put you into a kind of coma. Don't know what they called it though," Ron announced while he scratched his head; his face held a sheepish expression.

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" Hermione turned to Harry with the same look she had during study hours at the library. He grinned despite himself.

"The doctors said that the last spell…Voldemort…hit you with was slightly off because of the killing curse. It put you're body into shock and a state of semi comatose," she explained briefly, looking quite pleased with herself.

He sat there for a moment, mouth suddenly dry. "H…ow long?" He questioned quietly.

Ron looked dejected as Hermione whispered, "four years today, Harry."

He flinched and adverted his eyes, recalling her say he was now twenty-one.

"Happy four additional birthday," Ron tried humorlessly.

"Do you remember everything, Harry?" Hermione asked, changing the subject completely.

He responded gratefully, "I do. I mean, other than a few names, of course." He gasped in surprise and Hermione smiled broadly.

"Hey, you're voice is back, mate!" Ron laughed out, patting Harry's shoulder gently.

Harry smiled at both of them.

"Well, Harry, we better go tell your doctor you're awake since we're already kept it a secret for twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds."

"It's a record!" Ron exclaimed as Hermione finished cheerfully, slowly easing herself from the edge of the bed.

"Good-bye!" His friends chimed together as they strolled out of the hospital room.

He stared at the door for a moment before pulling his legs to his chest. Harry shut his eyes tightly and cried.

"You're crying for all your dead friends, I suppose?"

He looked up and stared at what he assumed was the doctor standing just out of his range of vision. Harry, through tears and bad eyesight, could almost make out black hair and sharp features.

"It's hard to see me, isn't it, Potter? I could correct your vision if you wish it." The sharp, strangely familiar voice offered.

Harry nodded slightly in assent, muttering, "Please."

The man strode forward as Harry closed his eyes. After a couple of taps on his eyelids and a muttered vision correction spell, the doctor moved back and order the patient to open his eyes.

Harry obeyed and opened his eyes.

Shining emerald green eyes met dull coal black eyes with a gasp. "Professor Snape!"

Snape grinned evilly and sat down. "If I would've been a snake, Potter, I would have bitten you," his doctor sneered half-heartedly.

"Personally, Doctor, I'm surprised you aren't."

"If we were still in Hogwarts that would've been fifteen points from Gryffindor for a cheeky retort. Take your potions, Potter," he ordered as he pressed two half-filled goblets into Harry's hands.

"You didn't poison them did you?"

"Of course not."

"I don't believe you."

"Too bad, Potter. Their the only way for you to get well again."

Harry eyed the cups suspiciously, before downing both and grimacing at the horrible taste. He gave Snape a withering look.

The ex-professor for his part didn't look the least bit perturbed. "The worse the taste of a potion, the better the effect of it."

Harry gave him a completely critical look as if to say "you're kidding, right?"

Snape shrugged in response, and grinned. After a moment of studying Harry's extremely bright emerald eyes, he muttered, "I never really did quite figure out why you preferred to wear you're glasses over a correction spell." It was more to himself than to Harry.

Harry knew it was a statement that didn't require an answer but answered anyway. "I though it was obvious. The glasses and scar were my trademarks!"

"Oh, just as Draco's were his white hair and silver gray eyes?"

"Dra…co?" The name rolled pleasantly off his tongue, as if it were very familiar with it. "Who's that?" Harry asked looking overly puzzled at the name and the way he said it.

Snape's face fall and his expression darkened. For a moment he said absolutely nothing, letting the awkward silence prevail on.

Finally, he said, "Tell me everything you remember, Potter."

* * *

To be continued.

A/N: Snape, for this story, has retired from Hogwarts and become a very able wizard doctor thanks to his potions skills.

Harry for his part can remember everything other than (as was stated) certain people. Obviously among these very special and forgotten people is Draco Malfoy! As for Harry, you won't get to know what he remembers for a while (a chapter or two?).

I hope you are enjoying the story so far and looking forward to the next chapter.


	2. Loneliness

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

**

* * *

**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

**Chapter One: **Loneliness

"The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, peculiar to myself and to a few other solitary men, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence." – Thomas Wolfe

--

Draco Lucius Malfoy was not at all a pleasant soul Monday morning.

He'd had porridge spilt on him, was treaded on, late for work, and worst of it, was now stuck helping the Weasley twins find Mandrake leaves.

"We looked in the Ls…"

"Couldn't find it!"

"And now…"

"We've got to ask you, Malfoy!" The twins chimed together in unison.

Draco fought back a sneer as he asked slowly, "Did you look under the Ms?"

"No," they replied blinking.

"There's your problem. It's M for Mandrake Leaves, not L for leaves of Mandrake," he explained with surprising calm.

They nodded before walking off to the next aisle cheerfully.

Draco shook his head and went on break.

As he moved to the back, he took in the store. It wasn't much, this _Potions and Cauldrons_, but it was his life now since he had killed his father during the war. His mother soon followed after finding out, and, truth be told, he was almost glad; he'd nearly been disowned.

He sighed heavily and sat down on the counter in the break room. "_Accio_ apple," he drawled in a bored voice, holding out his hand to catch the green apple as it flew toward him.

He took a bite and stared at the opposite wall in thought.

It really had been a while since he had had the time to just sit and think. Times like this usually led to him crying over pictures, but it didn't matter to him.

Taking another bite of his apple, he reached over the microwave and grabbed his sketchbook and flipped it open to a clean page.

Thinking for a moment, he began drawing.

Before long, a set of detailed eyes appeared followed by a stout1 nose, and defined mouth.

"Draco?" The manager called into the break room, startling the blonde haired man. "There's a man asking for your assistance, and your break is over," he told Draco as he put away the sketchbook and finished his apple.

"Yes, sir. I'll take care of it," Draco promised as he moved out the door, searching for the customer.

"Do you keep everyone waiting that long?" A familiar voice asked coldly from behind him.

Draco turned and inclined his head forward slightly and greeted, "Hello, Professor. How may I help you?"

Snape gave him a dry look as he snapped, "Wolfsbane, Draco!"

"Yes, sir. This way, sir," Draco said politely, gesturing toward an empty aisle.

They moved quickly through the crowd of shoppers, not stopping until they were out of potential earshot.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Draco asked in a hushed tone as soon as they had stopped.

Snape told him everything.

He told him that after Harry awoke, about two weeks ago, he had steadily undergone rehabilitation, which in fact was going quite well.

However…

"What does he remember?" Draco asked finally in a hesitant tone.

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Except for you and a few others."

"Oh."

Snape's expression warmed and softened as he said, "The memories are there, Draco."

Draco gave him a dry look. "How do you figure that?"

"His eyes and voice told me everything."

"What do I do now?"

"Reawaken the memories."

Silence followed that calm comment awkwardly.

They stood, staring in the opposite direction of one another, before Serverus managed, "You know, I really do need a bottle of Wolfsbane."

Draco gave him a weak smile and led him away.

--

Draco arrived at his manor with little incident.

No traffic accidents, crashes, bed drivers, or hitchhikers.

He sighed, pulling off coat and hanging it up, as he managed to remove his shoes.

In a dazed trance, Draco walked up a large flight of stairs to his room.

The walls, painted black and green, welcomed him home. The bed, looking extremely comfortable and warm, called his aching, weak body in invitation.

He declined unconsciously as he shifted around the desk in the left corner of the room. Behind it, he sat on the windowsill and gazed blankly at the comforting rain.

It drummed pleasantly against his double paned glass, soothing his mind till he could not recall his worries.

However, shrill screams of a distressed woman played against the melody of the rain in his mind.

She was dying, slowly and painfully, he remembered.

It was raining in the background, similar to this night.

His father had tortured her, forcing her to spill information about the light side.

And Draco… Draco had been there, treated to a show of nightmares no one should experience.

_A victorious laugh emitted_ _from his father as he released the woman from the torture with the Killing Curse. "_Avada Kedavra_!" _

_Draco flinched as the woman gave an inhuman scream _in his memory. Ha had turned and fled the room that night, seeking comfort in the potions lab that existed in the manor. He had had horridly gory dreams, nightmares, that night.

Draco pressed his forehead to the glass, recalling with morbid interest that it had been raining the night he had murdered his father for the light side.

The glass felt good against his hot skin.

He was pulled from his memories as the muggle phone on his desk rang.

He got up and, taking a seat behind the desk, answered the phone, drawling, "Malfoy Manor. Draco speaking."

"Drae? Oh, Draky-poo, good news, sweetie!" A feminine voice squealed into his ear, obviously not use to being limited to muggle electronics as Draco was.

He flinched.

Pansy Parkinson.

"What is it, Pansy?"

"Oh, Drae! Potter's…"

"Alive and awake, I know," Draco interrupted impatiently.

She gasped in shock. "Who told you?"

"Serverus."

"No fair! He knows where you work!"

"I've told you countless times, my dear, but you simply do not listen."

"Not true!"

"All right, don't believe me."

She huffed, "Fine, then. I won't, Draco."

"All right with me. Good-bye, Pansy," He replied politely.

The line went dead instantly.

He sighed and hung up the phone. He moved about his room for a short time before, giving up, he crawled into his bed and let sleep engulf him.

--

It rained harder now, a constant reminder of the dwindling time. Near him, Longbottom and Granger slew another Death Eater, as he moved past his father's corpse.

_They looked weary and old, the stress of the final battle almost too much for the young eighteen year old pair. _

_He watched them run toward him and question worriedly, "Where's Luna?"_

_He stared at them for a moment, before remembering that, ah yes, she was paired with him to fight off the enemy. He, Draco, just shook his head in grief. _

_A sob pushed past Granger's lips and Longbottom gave a shout of rage at the loss of his girlfriend._

_Draco flinched but pressed on with his own inquiry, "Granger, Longbottom, where did Harry go?"_

_Granger sobbed with anew in anguish as Longbottom sighed. _

"_He's followed You-Know-Who to the graveyard."_

_As if on cue, two voices screamed, "_Avada Kedavra_!"_

"_No!" Draco shouted as he pushed past the former Gryffindors, hurrying toward the voices. _

_Even in his panic filled haste, he managed to pull himself toward Harry's magical power, searching through it frantically for life traces. _

_He ran into the graveyard, huffing._

"Expelliarmus_!" Voldemort shouted, the light from his wand an unusually bright blue hue. _

_Harry was slumped against the Marvolo grave, his eyes a striking emerald green as he shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!"_

_

* * *

_

To be continued.

A/N: 1 I meant stout as in firm and strong, not as in fat.

I could not resist putting in the Weasley Twins.

That list part was a dream/memory Draco was having of the last battle. I had a really had time deciding if I was really going to put in this bit because I wanted to make it seem as if he remembered everything but it wasn't haunting him. However, I figured after hearing Potter was awake alive that he's need to have a good reaction, and what better than to make him dream of that last battle!

To anyone who hasn't figured it, the word for Harry's condition was Wolfsbane. Obvious, I know.

Um, that last bit there 'the Marvolo grave', that'll change/vary in the next chapter because of the center POV. Still third person though.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one.


	3. Memory

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Chapter Two: **Memory

How sweet to remember the trouble that is past! – Greek Proverb

--

_Glancing back at Hermione and Neville, he decided._

_Turning his back on his friends and that mysterious blonde, he ran off behind Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and preparing himself for the worse. _

_The dark wizard in front of him glided along the ground like a Dementor, or snake, ready to suck the soul out of anything that crossed his path. _

_They reached the graveyard and presently turned on each other._

_Voldemort sneered and said, "You, Mr. Harry James Potter, shall endure the same fate as your wretched idiotically disappointing parents. Once you're out of the way I will finally be able to rid the world of those filthy, loathsome mudbloods and muggles that stain the Earth with their puny pitiful lives. Then, of course, I will forever reign supreme wizard in all the land!" _

"_World domination? Couldn't you be a bit more original than that, _Voldy_?" Harry asked smugly, adrenaline surging through his veins. _

_Voldemort shook with anger, and raised his wand. _

"Avada Kedavra_!" They shouted at the same time._

_Harry was blown back against the Marvolo's grave marker by the blast as the two spells collided. _

_Voldemort raised his wand again, unmoved by the force of the blast, and shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!" _

_The light that surged toward Harry was an unusual bright blue hue. _

_With calm reserve, he called back once more, in great confidence that this would finally all end, "_Avada Kedavra_!" _

_His own spell spiraled around Voldemort's with amazing speed and hit the Dark Lord straight on. _

_The older wizard fell to the dirt ground, lifeless and unmoving. _

_Hit with the other spell, altered by Voldemort's last cast, Harry felt himself slipping into a sweet forgiving darkness far from reality. _

"_Potter! Dear god. Harry!" _

_Harry's eyes fluttered at the distressed voice. He forced them open and to gaze upon the blonde pale-skinned man running toward him. _

_The man half-shouted and half-sob, "Harry, hang on! Everything's all right, we've won! It'll all be okay! The Aurors are here! Dear God, Merlin." The blonde dropped to his knees before him, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. _

_Harry blinked slowly up at him, green eyes glazed and unfocused._

"_Harry? It's me! D…" _

--

Harry awoke with a start, his heart pounding and blood roaring and surging in his ears.

It had happened again.

This was the fifth time he'd had this dream since he'd met with Doctor Snape— the title still sounded so odd to him.

However, this time, he had gotten even closer to hearing the name of the beautiful blonde teenager who seemed to know him so well.

D… Damien, Devon, Don, Drae, Drake? (That last one sounded familiar to him.)

There was, in the back of his mind, a nagging suspicion that someone had already told him the name once before.

He shook his head and threw off his duvet, stretching.

His muggle phone rang as he trudged past it. Back tracking, he picked up the phone and yawned, "Hello?"

"Hey, mate, how are you?" Ron's voice drifted through the receiver and Harry could almost hear the smile in his best friend's voice.

Tiredly, he replied, "Fine really, everything is going good."

Ron asked his next question almost apprehensively. "And your scar?"

"Inactive, per usual now. Quite hard to get use to, matter of fact."

"Oh, right, well I called to invite you to a Hogwarts reunion!"

Harry dropped into a chair. "I'm not sure—"

"Come on, mate!" Ron insisted.

"Fine," Harry sighed. It wouldn't prove effictive to argue with his headstrong friend. In hindsight, he wondered what mad him become friends with Ron in the first place.

"Good. I'll call when I have all the details, mate," Ron said excitedly.

Harry sighed mentally, marveling at the fact that he could barely stand his friend's personality now. "Fine, then. Good-bye, Ron," he replied. He clicked the phone off and put it back on its hook.

He got back up and disappeared into his bathroom.

--

Weeks had gone by.

Harry never left his home as he trained himself physically and mentally to be around people again after four years.

He knew they would all look different just as he did, and he knew it would be hard to get use to their new statuses and some may even have given up magic!

He bit his thumb thoughtfully. Maybe if he…no, not a good idea. If he told Ron he wouldn't go then Ron would want to know why.

He sighed and grabbed his wand and wallet.

"Aldon!" He shouted into the main hall.

"Yes, sir?" The butler said, appearing beside him in very normal clothing.

"We're going into Diagon Alley, okay?"

Aldon nodded and off they went.

They appeared at their destination by apparating. Wizards and witched took no notice, use to such arrivals and they continued on their way, going around the pair.

Aldon flicked his silver bangs from his eyesight and asked as they walked through the town avoiding other people, "Sir, why are we here?"

"I've been invited to a reunion, Aldon," Harry said matter-of-factly. He smiled. "I'll need new cloths since it wouldn't be a very good idea to wear hospital clothing. You're here to help me!"

"Allow me to suggest we go in here first, then, sir," Aldon said, as he placed a hand of his charge's shoulder and gestured to the robe shop that had just opened up for the day.

Harry smiled and followed his butler in, and there they ordered some custom-made wizarding robes for the man-who-lived.

"How will you be paying for this, sir?" The female cashier asked as her counterpart rushed to pack the robes together and set them on the counter.

"We'll pay in cash, my good lady," Aldon replied cheerfully for Harry, smiling brightly at the lady.

Harry grabbed the package as Aldon finished paying and they walked out together.

"Oh my goodness, look! It's Harry Potter!" A girl walking by muttered to her friend. They looked fairly young to be out on their own.

Harry flinched.

It was happening again. He was being recognized. He had thought it would be fine going into public again after so many years. It must be his eyes, so very green, like a curse…

He looked to his butler, but didn't see him nearby. "Aldon? Aldon, where are you?" Harry cried out, surprised he had lost the protective man in the crowd.

"Ouf!" A wizard grunted as Harry rounded the corner and bumped into him.

"I-I'm sorry. I was looking for someone and I…" Harry stuttered, embarrassed.

"Harry?" The stranger asked, sounding breathless.

Harry looked up into startled silver eyes. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?" He asked, tilting his head.

Familiarity and giddiness flooded his senses. _A room filled with strangers, he and his other danced near one another, their dates dresses flowing before them as they caught each other's eye. Emerald-green met silver-blue._

He shook off the strange feelings, going around the stranger. "I have to find my friend! Good-bye, sir!" He took off running.

A muffled gasp drifted across the wind.

Snow crunched loudly beneath the dark-haired boy's feet as he ignored the sound behind him, concentrating on finding his butler.

He stopped and shouted up to the heavens, "Aldon!" With an angry huff, he did the only thing he could…he disappeared with a pop, destined for his mansion.

--

Those startling silver eyes materialized in his mind's eye again.

"Who _was_ that man?" Harry mumbled to himself, nibbling on his thumb in thought.

Silver eyes and white blond hair were a rare combination in wizarding families.

"_I never really did quite figure out why you preferred to wear you're glasses over a correction spell." _Snape's voice surfaced in his mind.

"_I though it was obvious. The glasses and scar were my trademarks!" _

His own voice startled him. He remembered now. This conversation was two months ago, when he had awoke from his…coma.

"_Oh, just as Draco's were his white hair and silver gray eyes?" _

Harry jumped up from his chair. "D-Draco?"

It made sense now. He had Hermione lecture him on important wizards and witches just a few days ago.

"_Now listen, Harry. Mr. Draco Malfoy is one of the richest wizards in the entire world. He was the son of a Death Eater named Lucius Malfoy. He switched to the light side, however, just a year before the war began."_

"_Why's that?"_

"_His lover…fought on the light side…" she replied, voice sad and strained with emotions Harry couldn't identify. "He...he killed his father and inherited all of his family money after his mother died. He lives a relaxed and normal life, working among the lower status and giving to charity. His most startling features are his silver gray eyes and platinum blond hair." _

"_He sounds like a really good guy. I wonder why Ron doesn't talk about him. He use to go to our school, right?"_

His amazing discovery that he had bumped into a very important old classmate of his was cut short as an unmistakable pop echoed through the main hall and living rooms.

He shouted, "Aldon!" He spied a black leather wrapped package in his butler's hands as he came in. His worries flew from his mind only to be replaced by curiosity.

"Sir? Where did you go? I couldn't find you." Aldon asked, barraging him with questions as soon as he came into view.

Ignoring the problem that had occurred earlier, Harry asked instead, "What's that there, Aldon?"

The taller man set down the boxes of casual and formal clothes and shoes on the floor; he then handed his charge the package. "A wizard, a bit taller than you, gave it to me a while after I lost you."

Harry nodded and opened the box. A surprised gasp fell from his lips.

Inside the package, a silver box was placed on top of black silk cloth. Inside the box was a necklace.

He pulled it out gently, staring at the pure gold trinket.

"Oh…a musical locket. Expensive by the looks of it," Aldon commented, noticing the mystified look on his charge's face.

"The man…what did he look like?" Harry asked, opening the locket carefully.

Violins and a piano played a love song back to him, writing a story with the musical notes.

"Ah, the Melody of Oblivion. A old love sonata composed by one of the older, better Malfoy generations…"

Harry's head snapped up. "What did the man look like?" He pressed again, feeling giddy.

Aldon blinked. "White blonde hair and silver eyes, casually dressed, well put together, and charmingly attractive. Why?"

* * *

To Be Continued…

Notes: Everyone describes Malfoy differently don't they? Um, about the silver to gray to blue thing. Draco has silver eyes in most stories and it's mentioned in J.K.'s books as his father's but Tom Felton (His actor) has blue eyes. For my creative side I decided Draco's eyes were mainly silver but could be flecked with other colors (ex. a dark silver gray or blue and gold.)

I think this chapter was a major hassle to write. I didn't want the character's to describe things the same, as I was starting to do, but I didn't want to describe anything wrong. I also think because of my writer's block that the end wasn't as well written as it could've been. It's also blatantly transparent. You can almost tell what's going on.

Well that's chapter three. I hope it was brilliant and you enjoyed it. Continue reading, please!


	4. Hatred

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Chapter Three: **Hatred

"Hatred comes from the heart; contempt from the head; and neither feeling is quite within our control." – Arthur Schopenhauer

--

Leaning back in his chair, Draco huffed in annoyance as he caught his mind wandering again.

On his computer screen a document lay opened to a recent chapter he was writing for his biography series 'Markus Milaius Malfoy'.

He turned his eyes on the screen once more, compelling himself to focus on the words he was reading backwards in hopes of finding errors.

_Markus Milaius Malfoy_

_…__Better known for his music compositions and violin sonatas. Markus was even good friends with the Italian composer Guiseppe Tartini. In fact, the duo worked together on the amazing violin sonata called "Devil's Trill", though that knowledge wasn't disclosed. Markus made sure that Tartini got full credit for the astounding piece, since his own part in the composition was minimal and only including the last few ending bars of music. However, it was rumored that Tartini wrote the sonata after selling his soul to the devil and making a pact with the devil, because the idea came to him after he had a dream of the devil playing the original piece. "Devil's Trill" remains to this day once of the most difficult pieces of violin music to play. Even Markus Malfoy was unable to fully master the piece although he was a violin protégée. _

_Before his own death, Markus completed a lengthy work known as "Melody of Oblivion". The story follows as the love his life, a woman named Catheryne, found out about Markus's love for her on the very day she was to marry his brother, Count Russell Malfoy. Over the ten years she had known Markus, she was oblivious to all his efforts to woo her and marry her. Finding beauty even in such a bothersome thing, Markus set to writing "Melody Of Oblivion" for her wedding gift. It was a love sonata in G major preformed by his apprentice on the wedding night, who moved on to be very well known. He was disowned from the Malfoy family two years before his death in 1773._

The sound of something hitting the glass behind him, rather hard too, pulled Draco from his thoughts.

He turned and broke into a smile.

An old, brown colored owl sat on the window ledge looking dazed as it shook its head.

He opened the window and lifted the owl inside, placing the poor thing on his table. "You foolish bird, my windows aren't _that_ clean," he mocked it, chuckling.

The bird nipped at his fingers, its feathers ruffling at the insult. It stuck out its leg angrily.

"A letter? From Granger, I bet, considering she sent _you_." He untied the letter as he fed the owl a treat for even making it this far from the borrow to the manor.

_My friend, _

_It's been a while since I wrote. I hope your not treating Ron's owl badly as you read this! Anyway, I wrote to you to invite you to something. It is a Hogwarts reunion. You will probably be one of the few Slytherins to be invited, of course, considering. Blaise and Pansy should be coming. I did invite them after all, but then again… Well it's going to be a month from now at Hogwarts (during the summer so we don't have to worry about disrupting any studies!) starting from twelve and ending at midnight. It's casual so don't go buying a suit or anything, you rich rich man! Oh, and don't tell anyone but… Ron invited Harry, Draco. Just thought you should know._

_A Messenger,_

_Hermione Weasley_

Draco read that last bit again, confused. "They invited Harry to a reunion? So soon?"

Although the prospect of seeing Harry Potter again was quite a nice one, he was much more worried about the younger man's health after…what happened.

Draco growled. If Voldemort were still alive, he would hunt him down and kill the bastard with his own aristocratic hands. How he hated Voldemort for what he did to Harry.

He sighed and resigned himself to allowing what was going to happen just happen. He dipped his quill into some freshly opened ink and began his reply.

--

He searched through his family heirlooms for something adequate.

Perhaps it should be a ring? No, definitely not good enough to welcome back Harry.

His hand swiped angrily, parting the sea of jewels in two. He growled in frustration.

"That's not good enough!" He whined at Blaise as his friend held up the particular item.

He smiled. It was just like before, when he had courted Harry.

The sound of music trickled into his thoughts.

_A room filled with strangers, he and his other danced near one another, their dates dresses flowing before them as they caught each other's eye. Silver-blue met emerald-green._

The violins playing shocked him from his stupor. "Is that mother's?" Draco mumbled to himself, following the music with his long aristocratic fingers.

A pure gold necklace with a musical locket, charmed to play a love piece for all of its eternities.

"That melody sounds so…familiar," Draco noted to himself, his voice echoing in hushed whispers through the tiny empty space of the vault.

Then it hit him full on, leaving him smiling.

Draco closed the jewel chest tightly; locking it with the large brass key he had kept in his other hand. He dropped the musical locket into his breast pocket before he locked up the vaults and left.

A perfect gift for his oblivious love, no?

Draco hummed all the way back to his own room, earning frightened stares from the house elves. He disappeared into his room, locking himself within and others without.

--

Weeks had gone by.

He debated with himself, wondering if he should write a letter to his love. No, better not to. He would have to court him like he hadn't done before.

No letters or poems this go around.

"I'll probably have to mail it…" Draco murmured to himself, fingering the already packaged gift.

Wizards stop in the middle of the street staring in awe at the handsome, lean and slender form of Draco Lucius Malfoy walking gracefully but casually down the Diagon Alley. Witches swooned in place.

Draco ignored them, trekking down to the post office. He took a short cut through an empty alley. "Perhaps this will be an easier route," he said to himself, barely stirring the sleeping shadows at his feet.

"Oh my goodness, look! It's Harry Potter!" The comment drifted back to him from near the front of the alley. A female no doubt.

He sped up.

"Aldon? Aldon, where are you?"

Draco's heart sped up with his step. He knew that voice. Suddenly someone came around the corner and walked straight into him. "Ouf!" A sharp insult was on his tongue, ready for firing as he looked down at the person who dared walk into him.

"I-I'm sorry. I was looking for someone and I…" Stuttered the stranger, looking up with emerald green eyes into his own.

"Harry?" Draco asked in a gasp. Those eyes…he could drown in those beautiful green eyes.

Looking up in confusion, Harry cocked his head to the side, before going around Draco. "I have to find my friend! Good-bye, sir!" He took off running.

Stifling a gasp, Draco watched him run off. "I guess it's one thing to know and one thing to see first hand." Harry really didn't remember him at all.

He continued walking, now crestfallen.

"Mr. Potter, sir?"

Draco looked up to see a tall, silver haired man. "Excuse me? Are you Aldon?"

The man looked down at him. "Yes."

"I know, uh, Potter and I just saw him. I believe he apparated."

Aldon nodded and bowed to Draco. "Thank you. Is there anything I could do for you?"

"There is once thing. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you give this to Potter. It's rather important," Draco said as he placed the wrapped box into Aldon's hand. "Thank you very much." He watched as Aldon disappeared among the crowd.

"Quiet fellow…" Draco mused.

Well, at least he had gotten a way to transport his gift to Harry and no transportation fees! Draco smiled and disappeared with a pop.

--

"Fuck," Draco hissed as he searched through his closet to prepare his clothing in advance. There was nothing he wanted to wear!

He huffed in annoyance and abandoned the task.

A house elf appeared and asked quietly, "Does sir need 'nything from the elves?" He looked as if he had been sent by one of the human workers in the manor in their place.

Draco gave him a bored look and shook his head. "I don't think so, Dobby."

Dobby fidgeted and bowed before popping away in the uniquely annoying way only house elves could.

Granger still hated him for having an elvin work force but he pointed out that human servants helped the elves with their chores and duties. She had grudgingly let it slide because Harry hadn't really minded much.

He propped his chin on his palm as he stared blankly at the window.

It was such a lovely day. The rain trickled rhythmically outside his open window, filling the room with the smell of fresh water. The sky was gray and black, filled with sagging clouds of precipitation. Plants reached up and down, stretching to find sunlight and gather the heaven sent water from the soaked dirt they reside in.

Draco smiled faintly. His nurse had always smelled of rain, as if the tiny house she lived in when she wasn't as Malfoy Manor was always drenched. When he was four, Draco got her to entertain the idea that she washed her clothing in rainwater.

Not long after, she did for real. Her clothes smelled of nature. It was something Draco couldn't get enough of, like the smell of his lover, lavender and vanilla.

It was almost funny how one simple thing filled Draco with both good and bad memories. He frowned.

He was shook out of his reprieve as his mind itched with the thought that he hadn't remembered to do something earlier. He shook himself of the thought as he stood and entered the study room.

Books upon books lined the walls. Every single wall had at least five hundred books on them, seeing how large the walls were it wasn't much of a stretch.

In the span of his lifetime, Draco had only managed to read at least one wall. He had dubbed it the Potion Book Wall.

He grabbed a book on Wolfsbane on a whim. Flipping through it, he grinned as he remembered how he had made a stronger potion for Remus after hours of pouring over this book and different veils.

His subconscious tugged at his memory again. What _had_ he forgotten?

Suddenly, Draco frowned again. "I didn't tell that Aldon fellow my name!"

* * *

To Be Continued…

Notes: Well, here we are once again. Um, I'm so sorry this chapter is so short. School, unfortunately has started once again so…yeah.

In other news, I would so love a Beta for this story. It would make me very happy. I don't think I'm a very good writer, so an older member would be embraced, especially someone who is a very good writer. But…I don't think anyone with talent would read my stuff so…. Sniff... Well, if anyone would like to help me, or knows a good Beta please email me. I new to the whole Beta thing so you may have to explain things.

Well that's is for now. I will try to write a longer chapter next time! Please, continue reading.


	5. Persistence

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Chapter Four: **Persistence

"So long as there is breath in me, that long will I persist. For now I know one of the greatest principles of success; if I persist long enough I will win." – Og Mandino

--

From where he sat in the second living room, Harry could barely stop himself from ignoring his book and staring at the locket on the coffee table. His neck ached from the odd position he had put it in to marvel at the piece that was behind him and low to the floor.

The music was impressive, this he knew. Violins painted the background story while the piano acted out the present and the characters emotions.

A love song with a full tale to tell, where a man sought after a woman who was ignorant of him and in love with another.

A house elf appeared next to the couch Harry was hanging half way off of with a loud pop.

A thud followed with a groan. "What is it?" Harry asked, getting up from where he had fallen. He glared halfheartedly at his only other companion. For some reason lately, he wished he had a full house hold of elvin and human helpers, but he shrugged it off.

"Aldon wished for Dizzy to tell sir that sir has to go to the…re-un-e-on tomorrow 'ight, sir," Dizzy smiled and clapped.

Harry blinked. "What? Reunion?" It took a moment for it to sink in. "Oh, right, of course. Thank you, Dizzy."

Dizzy disappeared with a pop; probably already back in the kitchen making lunch.

Harry grinned and looked over to the window.

The sun hung behind light, crisp white clouds partway in the sky. It was hard to believe last night a storm had taken place.

He prayed the weather would hold.

--

The owl arrived early in the afternoon, another reminder.

This one was from Mrs. Hermione Weasley. Persistent, wasn't she?

It said not to forget the reunion at Hogwarts was tonight and that a special guest would be present.

Harry snorted as he folded the paper away and tucked it in his pocket. What guest could possibly attend that he didn't know?

A frown crossed his features.

Then again, he hadn't remembered who Sirius was or who Mr. Malfoy had been.

He sighed and called on Aldon to pick out an outfit for him.

The preparations for tonight would be done in a short amount of time, after which Aldon would make sure he was not needed for the next twenty-four hours so he could visit his family.

Harry was nervous as much as he was ready for this evening. Perhaps a nap would do him some good.

After a restroom break, he retreated to the sofa to lie down.

--

Mm, the melody was beautiful, rich, and warm. It roused Harry from his short slumber.

His green eyes cracked open to look upon Dizzy, who was holding up the locket by his face. He blinked up at her.

"Aldon said that humans enjoy waking up to music, sir. So Dizzy fetched this pretty music thing to wake sir up with! Dizzy so smart!!" She squealed, handing the locket over when Harry held out his hand.

He stared at it as he right hand went for the coffee table. It stopped an inch away as he realized he didn't wear glasses anymore. Harry shook his head and stood, stretching.

Dizzy rushed away.

His clothes, casual jeans and black silk, button-up shirt, felt invitingly fresh and warm in his hands as he moved slowly to the bathroom to change, fix his hair, and wash his face.

Nothing he did was rushed in the least; Dizzy had woken him up an hour early so he was ahead of schedule.

Before long, he was finished and he apparated to Hogsmeade. It was still impossible to apparate unto Hogwarts ground so walking was the only way in if you weren't a student.

He passed several familiar buildings, but one he couldn't quite remember the name of.

The local tavern sat impassively before him. The sign reading: Hogs Head Tavern.

Harry looked at his watch before walking in the front door.

The bar went silent, everyone looking at him as if they knew him but couldn't quite place from where.

Ignoring the stares, Harry took a seat at the bar and ordered a fire whiskey. He sipped at it and glanced around the room with curious green eyes.

Its occupants were nothing special to say the least. Each costumer was haggard and bearded wearing tattered clothing, looking as if they had just stepped from the _Black__Pearl_ and into the bar for a quick drink.

His eyes drifted further, toward the path he had taken to enter the tavern. For a moment, he recalled the time he had to sneak in after Professor McGonagall to hear about Sirius's connection to himself.

A streak of silver hurried out the door.

Harry stood quickly in surprise dropping the glass of fire whiskey. The smashing of thick glass brought him back.

The bartender swore in Russian and called the barmaid over to clean up the mess.

Apologizing, Harry paid and exited as fast as he could while he dodged the stares from the pirate-looking men. He half expected to be called back by an 'Avast ye, lubber!' It never came.

"Wait up!" Harry called out once he had cleared the door.

A woman turned back in surprise, her silver blonde hair slipping over her slouched shoulders. "Can I help you, young man?"

He recoiled in surprise, his hand stopping a few inches from her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Nope. Just me," She grinned, teeth slightly yellow beneath her chapped lips. Turning away from him, she entered an old shack and closed the door behind her.

The fluttering in his stomach ceased and disappointment washed through his being. Who had he been expecting to see?

He touched his throbbing temples. It was going to be a long night.

--

Everyone was probably sitting at the benches arranged for the reunion, but Harry wasn't looking. His stomach tied itself tighter.

"Did you see Hermione? Havin' that baby soon, she is!"

Swallowing his fear, Harry stepped around the tree, dodging the talking people and keeping his head down. He wasn't as identifiable without his trademark glasses. Unfortunately, the absence wasn't enough.

A hand shot out from a group of people Harry had trouble placing.

Harry struggled, not use to being touched. He yanked his arm back, pulling the attached person out to him.

A tanned and grinning face framed by curly red hair stared up at him from where it connected to its bent over figure. Dark chocolate brown eyes blinked for a moment before recognition sparked through them. "Harry? Oh! It's been so long, mate!" The man hugged him to his chest enthusiastically.

"_Blaise? Will he ever wake up?"_

"Blaise?" Harry breathed, flashes of a sinuous figure dancing, leaning, walking, talking went through his mind. His stomach knotted again.

Blaise released him, nodding. "Knew you'd remember me, bloke! Hermione told me to tell you to tell Ron, when you see him, that she's looking for him, and you should probably find her yourself." The Italian (Harry remembered) patted his shoulder before diving back into the gaggle of people.

Oddly reassured and slightly nervous of whom else he would meet, Harry did as he was advised and made his way to where he thought Hermione might be. "Found you."

She looked up, shaken by his quiet approach.

He smiled at her and sat down next to her on the steps of Hagrid's old home. "It brings back a lot of memories, doesn't it?"

Hermione looked as though she'd been crying in the dim afternoon light. She nodded and mumbled, "That bastard killed him, right in front of us."

_No blood. Hagrid stumbled forward before meeting the ground, eyes completely white. _

Harry swallowed. He hadn't lost the painful memories. He looked up at the school; there just wasn't a Hogwarts without Hagrid.

Hermione looked up suddenly and smiled at someone from beside Harry. "Well!"

He looked up and sucked in his breath; Harry stared at the beautiful, lithe body before him.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley, Harry," the man said, bowing to Harry, his long blonde hair sliding silky over his right shoulder.

Harry couldn't breathe straight anymore as Hermione smiled and stood to hug the straightening man.

"It's been a long time, Draco!" She squealed.

"Draco?" Harry asked, brow furrowing, "Draco Malfoy?" That name again?

The taller man frowned as if troubled by Harry's confusion. He responded, "Yes, my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I'm your…old classmate, that's all. It has been a long time, and it doesn't surprise me you don't remember me." He sighed and released Hermione from the embrace.

Harry's chest constricted in guilt, why did it hurt so much so hear this man state the obvious? Why did he feel this man was so important? "Sorry. Oh! I'm being rude." He stood quickly bowing in greeting as Draco had done for them.

"Oh, so you got that then, did you?" Draco asked, smiling pleasantly once again as he stared at Harry's collarbone.

Hermione blinked and followed Draco's line of sight. "Oh! How pretty!"

Harry blinked; his hand went straight to the necklace though. "Ah, yes. If I may ask, why did I receive this?"

"It was a welcome back gift of sorts. You are the savior of the entire world," Draco smiled, eyes twinkling in the dim lights adorning Hogwarts.

Harry frowned. That wasn't a good reason to give him such an extravagant gift. "Really? Is that why?" On that note, why was Hermione blushing at the look the taller man was giving him?

"Well, I suppose I've taken a liking to you, if my first answer was not sufficient," he joked. However, Draco sobered slightly and asked in a very quiet voice. "Unless you don't like it. I could take it back?"

"No!" Harry answered immediately. He blushed furiously when the other man smiled brightly and raised an eyebrow at him. "What I meant to say is that I do indeed like it and would feel quite unappreciative of the gesture if I were to return it."

Hermione coughed and made herself known again, as she had been dully unnoticed in the wake of the conversation. "Well, would you two like to accompany an old witch around the party so that I might ever so kindly introduce you to everyone who decided to come?"

* * *

To Be Continued.

**Author's Notes:** So sorry for the wait, my lovelies. I'm very sure many of you abandoned me in the near yearlong wait for me to update and for that I just want to apologize. I became absorbed in my life and only updated in short sittings where I could only squeeze out a sentence or two of creative juice. I promise that I will try and get out my next chapter in a couple weeks. It will be difficult as I write during my exams but if I see that I still have a sufficient amount of readers who still want me to continue then I will. If not, I will sigh and resign my self to the fact that I brought it upon my self and will update crazily.


	6. Courage

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Chapter Five: **Courage

"Last, but by no means least, courage – moral courage, the courage of one's convictions, the courage to see things through. The world is in constant conspiracy against the courage of the brave. It's an age-old struggle – the roar of the crowd on one side and the voice of your own conscience on the other." – General Douglas MacArthur

--

When Draco sought out Mrs. Hermione Weasley to ask after Blaise, the last person he had expected to happenchance upon was the man he was once again trying to woo. To his surprise though, as he sauntered up trying to look attractive, it wasn't Harry who noticed him but Hermione.

She smiled at him and murmured, "Well." She had grown a little, an inch or two and the swelling of her belly had increased slightly. It was obviously she would give birth soon.

As Harry looked up, Draco bowed, ignoring his hair as it slid over his shoulder. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley, Harry," he greeted politely.

"It's been a long time, Draco," Hermione squealed and hugged him tight.

He nodded into the embrace, mindful of the witch's stomach, smiling in return. On the tip of his tongue was the phrase 'it has been a long time', but before it could come out a meek, confused voice spoke instead.

"Draco." Harry's brow wrinkled in concentration; Draco could tell he was struggling for a memory or familiarity in that name. "Draco Malfoy?"

Draco let out a cry of pain in his mind; he merely frowned in front of Harry. It burned and ached and crushed him to hear his full name said so blankly from the lips of his once lover. "Yes, my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I'm your…" he struggled to not say exactly _what _he was to Harry, "old classmate, that's all. It doesn't surprise me you don't remember me." _But it hurts_, the poor man added to himself with a sigh as he stepped away from Hermione.

The smaller man was quiet for a long moment. "Sorry." Suddenly, he stood quickly, remembering something. "Oh! I'm being rude." He bowed back in greeting as Draco has done a little earlier.

A shine caught Draco's attention. "Oh, so you got that, did you?" He couldn't help showing off his teeth in pleasure at the fact Harry was wearing the locket; for a moment, he wondered what the other thought of the music.

"Oh! How pretty!" Hermione interjected, looking at the part of the locket she could see with astonishment. She looked up when Harry blinked and winked at Draco. She knew what he was trying to do.

Harry grabbed at the trinket, holding it as he questioned Draco. "Ah, yes. If I may ask, why did I receive this?"

"It was a welcome back gift of sorts. You are the savior of the entire world," he responded. Besides, couldn't the Chosen One get a gift every now and again, other than the gift of being utterly desirable?

The shorter man frowned. "Really? Is that why?"

"Well, I suppose I've taken a liking to you, if my first answer was not sufficient," Draco answered teasingly, trying to make light of the fact that that was completely true. He seriously asked though, "Unless you don't like it. I could take it back?"

In a rush and slightly surprised, Harry answered quickly, "No!" Two patches of red darkened on his cheeks when Draco smiled at him and raised an elegant eyebrow. "What I meant to say is that I do indeed like it and would feel quite unappreciative of the gesture if I were to return it."

Eloquent and all at once pleasing, Draco felt very relieved at those words. His moment was cut short however when Hermione spoke; sheepishly, because he had totally forgotten her when Harry was speaking, he listened to her words attentively.

"Well, would you two like to accompany an old witch around the party so I might ever so kindly introduce you to everyone who decided to come?"

Draco grinned and joked, "You're only old if you read too much. Oh, you do read too much, don't you, _Granger_?"

Harry looked up, quite surprised by what Draco had said obviously. In fact, Draco wouldn't have put it past the man if that had triggered a memory.

Hermione swatted at him playfully and stuck out her tongue, before linking her arms with both men on either side of her. "Let's go. I bet Ron is looking for me, Blaise is looking for you, Draco, and everyone wants to see you, Harry."

Harry nodded obediently, looking slightly uncomfortable at the contact. It had most likely been a good long while since he'd been around anyone other than his helpers at home.

The mismatched group walked quietly to where most of the party was being held. However, before the trio could arrive Ron intersected them and dragged Hermione off, laughing as she sternly instructed Draco (using his full name as a mother would) to see off her precious little one (Harry) so he could play with the other toddlers (the guests).

Standing a few feet away from Draco, Harry asked in a quiet but interested voice, "Could you tell me, Mr. Malfoy, who most of the guests are?"

"Well, first off Mr. Malfoy was my father, please call me Draco, Harry. After all, we did grow up together for the better part of our childhood." He paused here but continued on after the other nodded. "Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, _Doctor_ Serverus, Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Dean Thomas. A few others also, however, I don't know their names."

Harry was silent for a long moment as they trudged over the soft grass, but as they came closer to the party, he whispered, "Seamus and Luna aren't here, are they?" His voice was pained and his eyes were downcast.

"No, they aren't. They would have been, if not for certain circumstances…"

Harry nodded and forced a smile. A moment later, they were encircled by a small group of people.

"Ha! I told you I saw him!" Blaise cried out in reference to Harry. Smiling, though, he bypassed the young man and gave Draco a huge warm hug. "Hello, lovely, where have you been?" He teased.

Draco returned the hug and laughed, "Around. How's Marie treating you?"

"Like a dog!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air; Draco could never figure out why he started dating muggles after seventh year.

Draco teased, "At least you get regular tick baths, Rover." He watched Harry talk, or attempt to, with the female Weasley and her boyfriend, Longbottom.

"You seem worried. Maybe it would be good for you to talk with him privately, Drake?" The Italian suggested quietly when Ginny had begun to shrilly announce that her and Longbottom were engaged.

"St. Mungo's took good care of him, I'm sure he's fine. Though, I do want to speak to him, but…"

"You don't know how much you'll be able to control yourself alone with him and are afraid you'll scare off the poor bloke?"

Draco gave him a small smile. "Yeah, that's the sum of it."

"Tut tut, mate. We had a similar conversation in fifth year. One would have thought you'd have figured out what to do by now," Blaise chided him with a clicking of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Life of the party as usual, Snape ascended on his old students in a flurry of robes. He smiled when everyone stumbled back away from him other than his former Slytherins and Harry. "Well, you look much better, young Potter."

Harry didn't seem as unnerved by the ex-potions professor as the other Gryffindors did. "Hello again, Doctor. Poison anyone important lately?"

"Just the Prime Minister of International Muggle Trade in London," Snape answered, fixing his gloves with an arched brow. "His name was too long."

Draco laughed at the nonsense that spilled from Serverus's lips. Some things never changed, like the sadistic wit of their old potions master. Serverus hadn't really kept in touch with his other students as much as Draco, who he informed of Harry's condition almost every day.

Snape had asked something of Harry, who was now blushing, before taking off to find an older companion to accompany in a conversation.

Blaise, helpful as ever, was dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles on the ground while everyone else was either too far away, too shocked, or didn't hear anything to laugh as hard as Blaise.

"What happened?" Draco asked, sticking his boot into Blaise's side. He probed harder when the taller male started crying from the amount of pain his stomach was receiving from his laughter.

"Snape said," Blaise breathed in deeply through his nose as he calmed down, "that now that Potter was older he should show all the girls how well he could handle his wand." He spluttered before giggling more again.

Harry blushed a deeper shade of red as he caught what Blaise had repeated when he rejoined Draco.

Unable to help himself, Draco said in as husky a voice as he could muster, "I bet he handles his wand extremely well." He winked at Harry, who turned bright red, and helped Blaise up off the ground.

--

It had been a quiet reunion of sorts toward the end and while Draco had been able to see all of his classmates and talk to some he didn't know and make new acquaintances, he could not help but feel put off by its mode.

Reunions, apparently, were nothing like what Slytherins did when they got back together or even saw another on the street; all former snakes had the implication that seeing each other met having to holding a huge party with food. Yet, even still, this get together was merely that and nothing more. Nothing extraordinary had happened except the arrival of Harry, whom Draco was glad to see.

Perhaps, in all the initial excitement, Draco hadn't given himself the time to savor the moments Harry's friends had given him. Who would have believed that a bunch of Gryffindors could have ever joked with the Prince of Slytherin himself as if he were no different from them? Of course, they weren't in school anymore and simple prejudice was far beneath them.

Draco smiled, fondly at his drink. It seemed like so long ago. How pitiful it all seemed now, the way the houses had always been a each other's throats and the harsh words that had been thrown around in their immature arrogance. The exact people Draco had hated had ended up fight right along side him against Voldemort.

A meek voice interrupted his roller coaster of twisted thoughts. "Thinking about something important, uh, Draco?"

Above him stood Harry looking misplaced and nervous, fiddling with the tie he wore bashfully.

Draco gave him a grin and stood to meet Harry's emerald eyes. "Not terribly important, Harry. I was just thinking about when we were all kids and how much we hated everyone from the other houses."

Something seemed to click in Harry's mind as his eyes lit up, he exclaimed, "You use to be so bloody horrid to me, you git!"

Draco's eyes went wide with wonder and surprise. How did he remember that?

"You'd come over at the most unfortunate times and tease me. I can't believe you ending up being okay with me. I remember you even sent me poems you had written. Funny, I can't remember what they said," Harry rambled on, inattentive to the emotions flashing over Draco's face. However, when silence met his words, he took notice. "Are you okay?"

_No_, Draco wanted to say, but nothing came from his lips to spill forth in confession. He couldn't believe a thing from the brunette's mouth. He remembered! He remembered the poems Draco had written him, not precisely what they said, but the poems! Oh god, the poems with which he romanced Harry with.

Harry looked concerned when Draco started to tear up. "Draco? What's wrong? You've never cried. Did I say something…?"

Draco laughed back his tears, wiping at his face distractedly. "It's nothing, you silly wanker. You just surprised me. You remember all that in one moment…" He shook his head. He couldn't get over it. Harry _remembered_ the poems.

"I had some help," the smaller man whispered unsurely. "Snape said this day, five years ago, he received an entry for a poetry contest and saw it was from you. He told me it was very surprising to find that you had written it."

"Which one was it?"

"I think he said it went something like:

_I'd like to run away from you,_

_Know that it's possible to get away from you._

_Try and push away all the emotions,_

_Push away all the things I can never say._

_I wish you could see me,_

_See me for the man that you've made me become._

_Everything is your entire fault! _

_It's you're fault that I can't stop…_

_You're fault that I'm in love with you_

_And can't stop dreaming of you._

Is that right?" Harry asked curiously.

It was beautiful, the feeling of pure joy that passed through Draco's heart. He would have cursed himself for acting like a girl, or sodding Hufflepuff, about all of this if he wasn't so happy. "That's exactly right, Harry. Completely and exactly right."

* * *

_To Be Continued._

**Author's Note:** Sorry for making Draco so emotional and taking a while to update. He's going through a softie phase and it will only become an undertone of his character in later chapters. I tried to balance him out and make him funny yet human. I'm not sure how I want to section the conclusion but I believe the end of this story is near. The question is if it will end happily or sadly.


	7. Destiny

**Melody of Oblivion  
By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**Chapter Six: **Destiny

"What are the thoughts of a canvas on which a masterpiece is being painted? 'I am being soiled, brutally treated and concealed from view.' Thus men grumble at their destiny, however fair." – Jean Cocteau

--

One doesn't truly appreciate the intensity of a hangover until they've experience one, so naturally Harry couldn't say anything to comfort his once best mate Ron.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron grumbled discontentedly, cradling his throbbing head in one hand. "Why'd you let me have so many drinks?"

Harry sighed, tiredly watching Hermione stir the contents on the cauldron, frothing and bubbling with the ingredients of a hangover potion. "I didn't even know the drinks were alcoholic, Ron. I haven't been around long enough to figure out purple isn't a natural color for a drink."

"They weren't alcoholic, Harry. Blaise spiked them," Draco stated matter-of-factly, coming back in from the den where several others were nursing their own headaches and weak stomachs. "Much longer, Mrs. Weasley?"

"No, no, Draco. Not much longer at all. In fact, I think it may be… There, done!"

Ron jumped from his seat, shouting, "Finally!" He groaned and gripped his head, sinking back into the pink kitchen chair, defeated.

Hermione pressed a glass of the potion into Harry's hands; he passed it to Ron. "There, you big prat. Next time, don't drink so much," Harry chided with a cocky grin.

Out of the guests who had arrived to enjoy the reunion last night, only Hermione, Draco, Harry, and Neville had remained sober. Ironically enough, Blaise had decided to throw everyone off and drink the most of the spiked drink so no one knew who did it. _Of course_, Harry though to himself, _Draco was privileged enough to know and not get smashed. _

"How did you know, anyway, Malfoy? About the spiked drinks?" Ron asked, revived by the potion. Ginny staggered in to the kitchen to snatch it from him before stumbling back into the living room silently.

"Elementary, my dear Watson! I first arrived at this conclusion when I noticed that the red drink I had drunk before the arrival of my friend had mysteriously changed to purple during the arrival of Mr. Zabini himself," Draco responded, tapping an imaginary pipe on the granite counter.

Harry ignored the conversation between the two men, in favor of looking around the temporarily and magically redone hut that had once housed Hagrid and Fang back when Harry was still at Hogwarts and before the war. He sighed and shook his head before leaning unto the counter and taking a big drink of his water.

Hermione took a slow step toward him, mindful of not knocking him down with the boulder of her so-called belly. "Harry? Are you alright?"

He raised his head again. Slowly the sounds drifted back in of Draco and Ron arguing and of relieved murmurs in the den, Hermione's came face back into focus. It all took a moment to sort out; Harry blanked out sometimes, slipping into something of a mini-coma, and then coming back ever so slowly. "I'm fine, and you?" He said cheerfully. "You look paler than Draco."

Ron snorted from somewhere to his left and he heard Draco's intake of breath at the indignation.

Hermione said offhandedly that her stomach had been hurting since yesterday morning and she didn't feel to well.

"Maybe you should take it easy and go rest in the bedroom or in a chair in the den," Draco suggested, holding out his hand for her to grasp so he could help her on her way.

She nodded. "Quite sensible. I think I—."

The sound of water splashing on the floor took all of them by surprise.

Hermione's hand went straight to her stomach and looked up and gaspingly laughed.

Harry called gently, "Hermione?"

"My… my water just broke…"

"What?" Harry asked, completely lost and looking to Draco for some assistance but the blonde was to busy staring in shock at the pregnant woman.

Ron seemed to know where his wits were and immediately grabbed his keys and shouted into the den, "'Mione's having the baby!" He rounded on Harry and Draco. "Hurry up, will you! We have got to get to the hospital this instant!"

Harry didn't have a clue and simply stared at him. "She's having the… baby…? Right now?"

Hermione's screech of pain – along with the fingers that were digging into his shoulder – got him to stop asking questions though.

--

Cries rang through Harry's ears from where he stood at the hospital bedside. Ron had gotten him in, with the claim that Harry was Hermione's brother.

Draco had been thrown out, however, considering Ron didn't look like he was related to the aristocrat and they couldn't really lie about his relation. Everyone knew a Malfoy when they saw one.

The nurse smiled at the little boy crying in Hermione's arms. Everyone in the room was sweaty and exhausted from helping this young witch give birth to the joy of life in her hands now. Doctors left the room quietly and left the rest to the nurses.

Ron looked overjoyed. "Look at him, he's got my nose!" He gently stroked the top of the baby's head. "I guess I won't be able to sleep now, eh, mate?" He asked, grinning over at Harry.

"Why's that?"

"This one doesn't look like a crier…so that means I'll get so fond of him that I can't think of anyone else."

Hermione smiled tiredly, "I remember when Draco use to say stuff like that, Ron." The baby gurgled and giggled when she rocked him against her reclined chest; the little thing clung to her shirt as if he could smell exactly who was his mother and didn't want to be separated from her after pulled so rudely from the womb of the woman.

"Draco?" Harry asked, quietly. _"In the absence of the other, silently, your heart reaches out, imploringly. Therefore, so anguished, your heart sends thoughts to your brain…"_

"Yes. He was philosophical like that. I don't know whom he got it from. He shocked me when he first said something like that. It was so unlike him, in a way," She giggled quietly.

"Really? I can't remember…" That was a lie now, wasn't it? _"Even if you don't understand why you think so much of the person after they have left, your heart knows very well…"_

Ron frowned slightly, tickling at the baby's chin. "Malfoy doesn't say things like that much often anymore. The war seriously changed many things about him. I don't hate too much anymore. He's become more of a person – of a man – since all this happened. I'm not saying I liked the war, but for people like Malfoy, it didn't end up being such a bad thing."

Harry frowned, confused. He asked in a whisper, "But Draco lost a very important person because of the war, right?" _"This explains why the heart grows fonder in absence. Your brain only remembers all the good things about the person when they are not so near, because you aren't subjected to their faults. To be subjected continuously to those faults causes fights between the other and yourself and the brain doesn't like to remember that…"_

"In a sense," Ron said, kissing Hermione's forehead gently. He stood and guided Harry out of the room by his elbow, gently. "Something terrible happened to his lover, but the man isn't dead. Malfoy just has to wait for the man to coming running back to him, right?"

"However, the heart cares not, for that other person is in their entirety the only reason for its existence; however, all those goods things over and over again, makes the heart yearn to experience the real thing…" Harry could remember now, the lecture Draco had been instructed to give in their thesis class. He wondered… "Why hasn't that man run back to Draco yet then?"

Ron smiled sadly, looking down at Harry. He placed a warm hand on his friend's shoulder. "I think it is because that man…does not yet remember who to run to."

"…With all its good and its bad." Maybe this side of Ron was the reason Harry had become friends with him.

There was a soothing silence as they walked to the waiting room, Ron's hand still placed protectively on Harry's shoulder. "Malfoy must be wondering what the heck has been going on. Why don't you go ahead and tell him and I'll head back to Hermione?" He said, pushing Harry forward into the room.

"Ah," Harry didn't really have much say in the matter because Ron took the moment of hesitation to motor straight back to his honey. Sighing, the wizard looked around the waiting room. Finally, he caught sight of Draco, who just happened to already be staring at him. "Ah!" He squeaked out again, caught off guard.

"Whom does the baby look like?" Draco asked, standing and adverting his eyes.

"Uh, he looks like Hermione but he kind of has Ron's features," Harry replied. That brief moment of clarity, where he could almost remember everything, was gone. The fog had resettled on his mind, but now he could somewhat see how unsure and careful Draco was around him.

"Really? The little tyke is going to be more Granger than Weasley so we should celebrate tonight! What did they name him?"

"I don't know. I got thrown out before Hermione could bring it up. We were talking about you before I left."

"Oh, how so?"

"Ron said something that Hermione said you use to say or something to that effect."

"Perhaps I should leave this discussion at that. I think you three finally had another trio moment," Draco laughed, patting Harry on the back softly before nudging him forward. "It should be fine for me to go in now, right? We can see what they named the baby together."

Harry hesitated a moment before quietly adding, "Ron and I talked about your lover."

Although he kept walking, Draco seemed to freeze expression wise as if he was clueless as to how to respond.

"You don't have to talk about it. I understand how hard it must be. Even for him it must be hard; not knowing whom it is he left behind after the war. I wonder now, how he came to be unable to remember you…" He dropped it at that, feeling nosy.

Draco didn't answer till they had made it to the room Hermione had been moved to after the birthing. He paused, mid-step and looked straight at the door, somewhat hiding his expression. "It's hard for everyone he has forgotten. It hurts when I see him sometimes; it hurts for all of them too. You have to think of what to say before you say it because he may not remember the event. I think it's not so painful because all of us forgotten get to see him."

Harry titled his head to the side, trying to get a look at Draco's face. "Is that often?"

"Sometimes, when I see him it doesn't feel like the same person because so much has changed. Yet, I'd wager I am not the same person either, at least in his eyes," Draco murmured, not answering Harry's last question.

Harry lowered his eyes, pondering, before finally he pushed open the door.

Ron seemed to tackle him just as he stepped in. "We've a name!"

Draco couldn't help but joke at Ron's enthusiasm. "I hope you haven't named him Harold and Frederick!" He cried out.

"For your information, Malfoy, we named him Lucian Harry Weasley," Ron exclaimed in a matter-of-fact tone.

There was a tense silence before Draco gritted out, "Lucian like Lucius? After my father?" It seemed tough for him to say something related to his father like this.

"No, Draco. We named him after you and your middle name, and then his middle name is after Harry. Is that okay?" Hermione asked timidly. The baby wasn't with her, it was in the nurse's care, getting washed up and dressed. She would have to breast feed Lucian when he was returned to her.

Draco looked taken aback. "After me?"

"It's fine. Thank you, Hermione. It means a lot…to both of us," Harry smiled.

"I'm honored, Mrs. Weasley, to be your son's namesake," Draco said finally, his eyes bright.

Ron teased, "You're not going to make a fuss about it, Malfoy?"

"Why should I? It was destiny that named your child."

"No, Malfoy, it was you who named my kid. You and I may still only be just acquaintances but I really want to thank you for making me aware of my love for Hermione. Without you, this boy would have never been born…" Ron said, blushing in embarrassment.

Draco smiled and let out a hoarse laugh. "Without me, Hermione wouldn't have just gone through eight hours of labor!"

"Thank you, kind sir," Hermione chimed dryly, not appreciating the joke.

Draco laughed harder. "Dear God, Merlin! It was just a joke."

That moment triggered it, just those words. As if someone had tugged on the rope, the curtain on the memory of the night Voldemort had been defeated fell away and the lights flashed on.

_"Dear God, Merlin. Harry?"_ The saddened voice called out, tugging at Harry and trying to part the fog. _"It's me! Draco!"_ Harry gasped.

Suddenly, everything was bright.

* * *

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: The next chapter will hopefully be the end of Melody of Oblivion. I'm not quite sure where I will go from there with my Harry Potter bunnies, but hopefully more wonderful projects like this will emerge. Notice, the note segment has no reference to the story. Why? Because I know that if I say one thing, I'll give away the grand finale. So stay tuned for le piece de resistance, oui?


	8. Beginning of Love

**Melody of Oblivion **

**By Kitsune Yarisha**

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blond haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

* * *

**  
Chapter Seven, Part One: **Beginning 

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." – Gilda Radner

--

It was destiny, wasn't it? That was the only thing that could explain how all of this happened.

You can't always tell a story completely and clearly. There have to be holes that should be filled.

So, then that was it. Destiny had predetermined it all. It was the only way that one could make it through all this after just awakening. Finally, through the loneliness, forgotten memories, absolute hatred, unrelenting persistence, and pure courage, we had at last reached the final chapters.

Then, finally, the curtain could raise and the actors could take the stage for once last beginning, at the very least.

--

It was a good thing they had been in a hospital when Harry had collapsed.

Hermione and Weasley both seemed anxious to talk to the brunette and shake some answers out of him. It wasn't any odder than the fact that the nurses had had to hold Hermione down from following the doctors who took Harry out.

She wasn't the only one, however. Shouts and curses woke the hospital as Weasley held back a livid and concerned Draco. He had to be talked down and set onto a chair where some witch soothed him with some soft words and charms.

It wasn't until very late that night that Harry woke. The first allowed to see him was Hermione; this was only because the hospital still thought they were related.

Draco paced, worried beyond all reason once more.

Weasley watched him from his own seat, rocking Lucian in his arms. The baby was sound asleep and well fed, so he wouldn't wake or cry for at least a few more hours. "You're going to end up wearing a hole into the floor, Malfoy."

"I can't help it. I just need Hermione to tell me he is okay and then tell why he blacked out like that in the middle of the room."

"Look. Harry just came out of a four-year coma and I'm sure that a few complications can occur in the first few months of his rehabilitation. Just because we didn't see it, doesn't mean he hasn't had episodes like this before on his own time."

"Of course. You're right. It's just…all this stress and frustration leaves me with a short emotional fuse and seeing him just go like that was the last proverbial straw."

Weasley stood and grabbed his bottled water from the side table and threw it at the blonde man. "Look, take a seat and drink some water. It'll make you feel loads better, mate."

Resigning himself, Draco sighed and followed orders without question. He caught the bottle, thankfully, and with no regard for germs at all, drank heavily from the Welsh Mountain Spring water.

There was a companionable silence that passed in the air between them.

"Why is it that we never became friends, Weasley?" Draco asked quietly, staring at the swishing water within its plastic confines.

Weasley snorted. "For me, I never got over the little Master Malfoy that paraded around our school with his snobby little head raised high and his mouth scowling at all those unlike him and spat at my family name. Don't even try to say you're sorry for that. It wasn't your fault, was it? You were born and bred to believe and act and be more superior to all those around you. Your father is probably rolling in his grave right now."

"I guess in the end, I always defied him even if it was only over the littlest things. It was funny how enraged he got when he found out about Harry. I had let it slip at dinner and mother only nodded and said how sensible of a match it was. Mother and I had not given a thought to Voldemort even though I was being trained to become a death eater," Draco said, shrugging a graceful shoulder and shifting in the seat so he could tap a finger on his knee.

"How was it that you came by almost killing Dumbledore in sixth year?"

"There was an order issued at the last moment. Anyone who came across Harry Potter was to bring him in, if Headmaster Dumbledore was found he was to be executed on spot. Any interfering parties were to be destroyed without question."

"But you couldn't do it, could you?"

"I had always hated Dumbledore, and I probably still do, but at that moment it didn't seem like it was the right time for him to die and furthermore I was unconsciously being converted every moment to the light side because of Harry. The light side in me kept me from killing a lot of innocent people in the war."

"Can't imagine Voldemort was too enthusiastic about that!"

"No," Draco grinned, "he wasn't too happy at all. After Snape killed Dumbledore, I think I realized what I was trying to be was wrong. Snape pretty much followed my decision because of his small lump of a heart still had some light in it."

Weasley smiled when Lucian coughed and squirmed to get comfortable in his arms. "I may not have forgiven you for our school days but I sure as hell respect you for never taking that shot. Harry said he was so shocked when you came out on the roof with your wand pointed at Dumbledore."

Draco nodded. He added, "Ideas, perspectives, and beliefs all changed during the war."

"So did people," Weasley said in agreement, "So did you…" The baby snored in his arms and cuddled closer to him.

Both men said nothing more as they waited. One stared out the window of the third floor waiting room, ignoring the white walls and motivational posters in favor of watching the stars move across the sky behind the clear pane of glass. The other watched the muted television as he cradled his newborn child.

--

"You two can enter Mr. Potter's room now," the nurse said simply. She looked tired and drab in her white outfit. She wasn't a witch and she was likely as not working a double shift.

Draco took her hand, and with all the poise and charm of the Malfoy, kissed it and smiled at her. "Thank you for your time, madam."

She blushed and batted his hand away as she led them down the hall. "Mr. Potter's sister is in her own room now, Mr. Malfoy. I thought Mr. Weasley would like to know that, as well," she supplied, opening Hermione's room door first, fighting with the key for a long pause.

Weasley nodded and smiled his thanks.

"Ron!" A surprised voice called from the room. Hermione sat back against the wall in a hospital bed, looking as though she had not been moved from it even though she had visited Harry. She held her arms open and was practically beaming.

Draco hung back, leaning in the doorframe, when she beckoned her husband forward. For the longest time, he couldn't fathom why she was so excited until he finally realized that she had just come back from seeing Harry.

Hermione was whispering very quietly as Ron placed the bundle of Lucian in her waiting arms.

Ron for his part looked shocked, surprised, relieved and millions of other things that flickered over his expression.

The foot under him tapped impatiently as the couple talked. Draco saw Ron turn a contemplative expression to him before waving him on without the redhead. He frowned but nodded in consent. He turned from the room and his heel and headed out, meeting back up with the nurse outside the door.

"Mr. Weasley isn't following?" She asked, picking Harry's room key from the ring of keys she had out.

The key was gold and had a snitch carved into it, Draco noted mentally. He let a half grin tug at his mouth when he realized the irony. "No, he told me to go on ahead."

The nurse nodded as if it all sounded so very sensible. She picked a door that was six down from Hermione's own room. Quite an exercise, indeed.

Draco frowned when she stopped just a few feet away from the door.

She turned toward him and began to speak in a low voice. "Listen, Mr. Malfoy, I know of your history with Mr. Potter but I don't know if what you're about to witness will be a good thing for you." Here, she paused for a deep breath.

His frown deepened and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Weasley was happy enough about it but… I just… You'll see," she finished lamely. She turned to open the door but under her breath she mumbled something along the lines of: "But it seems as if the savior of the Wizarding World has finally come home."

Draco wasn't sure how much of a scowl his frown had turned into. This woman, who only a moment ago was just another nameless, was confusing him in to wondering who in the seven hells she was.

The door swung open into the inside and the nurse stepped away. "You have as long as you want, Mr. Malfoy," she told him quietly before stepping away and walking down the hall and out of his sight.

A sense of foreboding washed through him and he swallowed hard. He took a short step in, listening closely to the sounds in the room.

A monitor beeped continuously from the corner by Harry's bed. There was a rustling of the sheets as the man in them moved restlessly.

A bird chirped from its cage by the door, drawing Draco's gaze. It watched him curiously, twitching its head back and forth at odd angles to follow the man's movements.

Its stare, however, unnerved the blond, making him look away before very long. He took a few steps forward, silent.

Harry didn't seem to hear him, anyway. The other had barely moved and his eyes were closed again; he was gripping the edge of his thin hospital blanket, worrying it in his long, tan fingers.

Draco smiled distractedly. Even pale and in a hospital, Harry Potter still managed to look every inch the man who four years ago defeated Voldemort. It made him proud to know that he had a small hand in that defeat. Without killing his father and braving the rain, Voldemort would have never been reached.

"Who's there?"

Draco nearly jumped in surprise. He struggled to regain his voice to respond. He should remember to not get lost in his thoughts so much.

Harry's eyes opened, fogged by his sleep. Even still, they almost instantly cleared and focused on Draco. Recognition blossomed in those endlessly emerald orbs. "Draco," he acknowledged with a smile filled with…

_No_… It couldn't be. Draco took another step forward, eyes bright and wide. "Harry," he replied as steadily as he could. A tremor still shook his voice and a shiver wracked his body.

The man on the bed rose and stretched before looking to the blond once more. "Where's Ron?"

"He's with his wife," Draco told him, not really paying attention to his own answer. He couldn't tear his gaze from the brunette's eyes. They shone and twinkled, something akin to Dumbledore, but with something that was so familiar yet so old.

Like a faded picture, it took Draco a long time to see it and comprehend it, but when he did he could scarcely believe it.

"Harry…" he tried in a small but confident voice. "What do you remember?"

--

**Chapter Seven, Part Two: **Love

"A bell is not a bell until you ring it;

A song is not a song until you sing it.

Love in your heart is not put there to stay;

Love is not love until you give it away." – Oscar Hammerstein the Second

--

The vague whispers of time spoke to him silently as he slipped away and as he swam through the currents of consciousness and unconsciousness.

Harry could remember when his thoughts had been vague and poetic and dark before. He could recall the time when he had relished staying physically away from the lonely world and instead pulled others to himself via their voices.

He had blocked out the doctor's voices this time, however, until Hermione had come to relieve them of their mumbles and talk to him.

She had been quiet and motherly. Hermione was always like that though. When he had refused to speak for a long time, she decided to describe the room.

Medical equipment occupied what should have been the bedside table's place and a birdcage was stationed at the door with an unenchanted parakeet in it. One large window took up the left side of the room, beside Harry's bed.

Finally, Harry had deemed it okay to talk and he told Hermione what was going on, before she left with an expression of so much delight and relief.

What was going on, though? What was it he so suddenly remembered?

Harry wasn't quite sure he could answer those questions himself, but he felt different. He felt as if he knew more, had more, and wanted more. His body ached for another's. His fingers longed to be weaved into silken strands. His heart called for someone else's, but it would not cry out the name for which it longed.

The bird at the door chirped only a moment after he closed his eyes tighter and shifted, twisting his hands in his duvet.

He didn't hear anything beyond the bird, but for some reason his body was alive with sensation. His body recognized that scent and that power. "Who's there?" He demanded quietly.

No reply met him. It felt as though the vacuum of space had engulfed the room, the silence was so profound.

Never one for suspense, he opened his eyes and turned to look. "Draco," he sighed out with a smile. The name fell so easily, so lovingly, from his lips. He had tasted that name and rolled it on his tongue for ages, he remember, whether in the passion of a battle or the passion of…

"Harry," the blond responded, looking very much hopeful and stepping forward gracefully yet hurriedly. Draco's silver blue eyes were bright and focused entirely on Harry and his every move.

Those eyes were beautiful and embracing. How Harry loved those eyes. Loved? That's right… "Where's Ron?" He asked offhandedly, using his concern for his friend to give himself time to think.

"He's with his wife." Draco was always like that, wasn't he? Eloquent and simply straight to the point had always been his style, even in his verbal spats with Harry.

_That's right, I loved him…I still love him…we loved one another…_

Before Harry could think of what to say next to the man before him, Draco interjected.

"Harry… What do you remember?"

"_Tell me everything you remember, Potter."_

Stunned, he was unable to respond to the so sudden question. Something akin to guilt ripped through his stomach making him cringe when he turned his face away. Had he caused everyone so much grief in his temporary lose of memory?

Hermione had seemed too sad when she had talked about people Harry had not remembered in the recent months.

Snape had always tried to remind him of things.

He blinked. No one had ever told him… _No one_… had ever reminded him of Draco.

"Why wasn't I told?" He asked, raising his eyes and glaring, ignoring the posed question to ask his own. All the odd feelings that he thought he had never experienced before, he had. Every thought was a reenactment of an earlier time. To live through all the uncertainty again…Harry didn't know why it angered him so much.

Repressed emotions sailed to the surface of his fragile, awoken mind.

"Told?"

"About us," he clarified firmly. "When I couldn't remember us in my post-coma, no one told me about our relationship."

And, yet, the full blame of not seeing Draco and recalling his bond with Harry did not completely lay with those who had known. _I didn't remember him by myself. I should be the first to blame…._

Draco's eyes softened, a look he often got when Harry asked him questions he didn't want to answer; it was a habit of the blonde's that Harry only remembered at that moment. "I didn't want to frighten you away again," he answered softly in an unsure way.

"Again?"

"My treatment had nearly made you completely hate me. We didn't become lovers until a short while before the defeat of Voldemort."

The silence between the prevailed for so long that even the parakeet was quiet in its cage. Perhaps it didn't want to disturb the turbulent peace that had settled between the men.

"You can say his name now…" Harry noted dully, eyes focused on the course material of the duvet.

_I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing. _(T.S. Eliot)

A slow chuckle emitted from the taller more formal looking man. "I guess you began to rub off on me during the fight and the four years I spent by your side," Draco said with a shrug and a nonchalant smile.

"Four years is a long time to still love someone who doesn't remember you, Draco."

"Four years is a long time to still love someone you can't remember, Harry," he replied swiftly and cleverly.

Harry smiled and pressed a cool finger to the right side of his head. Applying pressure to relieve a sudden headache, he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what, love?" Draco asked, hesitating on the last part. His term of affection did not go unnoticed by his company but the other merely smiled, he had missed that very much indeed.

Harry closed his eyes and patted the bed for the other to sit with him. When the other had, he explained, "It must have been a horrid affair for you. To see me and remember all the memories I couldn't, while I sat blissfully unaware."

The man next to him shook his head lightly at the remark. "Not at all. What hurt the most was when you responded to me with no familiarity."

"This probably won't make much sense to you, but… I can't really remember what I couldn't remember when I wasn't remembering my memories. I think I'd like to believe that I remembered your existence just not our history together."

"How one could utterly forget the fights we have is beyond me, but I think I get your point."

Once again, silence settled easily in the hospital room. It wasn't very big and the echoing beeps dominated their rhythmic breathing.

Draco shifted to lie back against the headboard of the bed and stretched out his legs. "Weasley is going to want to talk to you soon."

"I know," Harry said quietly. He shifted backwards and moved to lean against Draco's strong, broad shoulder. "I'll have to have him talk to me and interject when I remember something. That's how it went with Hermione."

"Oh, I see I don't receive that kind of lovely treatment," Draco laughed in a quiet sort of way.

Harry blushed lightly. "If it helps you feel better… I remember you. I remember meeting in you the robe shop, speaking to you again on the train, having that quick spat before McGonagall directed us into the Great Hall, and than everything from there."

"Yeah, I always was rather fond of tormenting you whenever I saw a fit opportunity."

"Gee, thanks, mate."

"_However, the heart cares not, for that other person is in their entirety the only reason for its existence; however, all those goods things over and over again, makes the heart yearn to experience the real thing…"_

Draco chuckled at the soft banter. "You're welcome, indeed."

"_Ron and I talked about your lover."_

Harry fiddled with the blanket uncertainly. "So, yesterday when you and I were talking before seeing Hermione. The man you were talking about was really me?"

"Yes, he was you. It felt odd to explain in all to you in such a roundabout way."

"It's odd for me to look back on it and think that it was about me, what with the way you spoke. I think I felt jealous for a little while. All I could think of was, does that guy really still deserve to hold Draco's love for so long and not return it?"

"And then you find out you said that about yourself. What, then, is the answer to the question you posed?"

The brunette replied almost as soon as he was done. "Yes, he does deserve it."

Draco nodded. "I thought you might say that."

"_It was a welcome back gift of sorts."_

"And the locket?" Harry asked, actually having forgot about it for the longest time. He reached into his shirt and pulled it out.

Draco's hands reached from either side of him and helped him open it.

Almost immediately, it sprang to life and played the beginning of the _Melody of Oblivion_.

"I was trying to reawaken your dormant love. Unlike some people, I was trying to play an active role in making you remember. I missed saying it, but I really do still love you, Harry James Potter. Even after four damned years and a couple extra months of waiting for you," Draco said, no blush dusting his pale skin and nothing but an affirmation in his eyes confirmed his words from as far as Harry could see.

"_You'd come over at the most unfortunate times and tease me. I can't believe you ending up being okay with me. I remember you even sent me poems you had written. Funny, I can't remember what they said."_

"And the poems were love poems, weren't they?"

"Yeah, from the first time."

Harry remembered. He remembered it very well now. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes. "The first time you wanted to show me how much you loved me. Look at this, I made you wait for so long and I'm not even worth it."

Draco scuffed, "Please! Like the savior of the world would ever not be good enough for me."

The smaller man blinked and looked up, in surprise. What did he expect? Draco had waited for four plus years!

"Listen, don't tell anyone this because it'll ruin my reputation. I'm not even close to being worthy of you, but I trying to be. This waiting for you bit you keep spewing, it was just a part of my commitment to you. I can't propose to you because our union wouldn't mean anything in the eyes of the Wizard World and people would condemn you, their savior, for marrying a man anyway. I can't bear you children or let you live a normal life. I can't give you what a woman can give you, but I can…" He paused, struggling for something mushy and gushy but true. "I can give you my heart, my body, my soul, and my years. Everything I own I want to own with you."

The clock ticked silently in the hallway, noting the seconds it took for Harry to react. The parakeet started up again by the door, twittering off about something or another concerning itself.

A laugh broke through from the brunette. "You…you have gotten so much softer since I've been…away!" Harry shook his head. He remembered the rougher more up front Draco of yesteryear. This new one was nice but still very much different. He calmed down enough to smile and lean up to capture Draco's lips in a chaste, affectionate kiss. "I would gladly share everything we own together with you for now and as long as I can wield a wand, wooden or not, and then some."

Draco smiled brightly at Harry, pulling him in for a long, passionate kiss that had forever wished to be expressed in the deep down soul of the former Slytherin.

The parakeet sang louder as the door opened and Ron walked into the room. His eyes alighted on the rather occupied romantic pair and a blush painted its way onto his cheeks. "Oh, so… If I stay in here long enough will I get a kiss, too?"

--

Harry's hands wove into Draco's as they walked through the parkway.

Only slightly ahead, Lucian Weasley danced around his parents, tugging at his mum's hand to show her over to the slide and away from his attention-grabbing father.

Harry smiled at the sight. "He's growing quick," he commented to Ron as they caught up with the redhead.

The man smiled proud and puffed out his chest. "Just like his dad, he is! He'll be a strong lad when he's grown!"

The four year old climbed the ladder of the jungle gym with quick steps, pulling him up to the slide and sitting down gently. With a push, he made his way down, tumbling into his thinned mother with a fit of giggles. He flashed a big smile to Ron.

"Daddy!" A call came from behind the tree man.

"Over here, Lucretzia!" Draco called, flagging down the young girl with jet-black hair. She had an Asian look about her and was only around seven years old. She looked nothing of the sort related to her fathers.

Harry had adopted her a year or two after his reunion with his lover and friends.

Lucretzia rushed to the tall blond haired man, collapsing into his arms with a big whoosh of air. "There was this mean boy at the swings who yelled at me to leave my swing, Daddy!"

Harry kneeled to give her a hug, prying her from Draco's legs and patting her head. "I remember when Daddy use to be like that, honey."

Wide green eyes looked up into his emerald eyes gleaming with unshed tears of frustration. "Really, Daddy use to be like that, Mum?"

"Yes, Daddy use to be like that," Draco said monotonously, talking himself with no happiness. He did grin however at the blush that colored the other's face when their daughter called Harry 'mum'.

"I learned to ignore people who act like that. You can always swing at home in any case. Do you want to play with Lucian, honey?"

"Yeah, Mum! I'll go play with Luc!" She lurched clumsily over the ground, her summer dress floating around her legs. "Lucian!"

"Beautiful thing, she is. I'm right proud to be her godfather! I wonder how anyone could ever abandon such a good kid like that," Ron commented with a sigh.

Harry gave a sad shrug. "Some people.'

Out of the blue, Draco commented, "We need a black haired male in this group."

"Why?" Ron and Harry asked at the same time, bewildered at the sudden change of subject.

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's lips before walking to meet up with Hermione and the kids. "We've got every other hair color already," he threw over his shoulder with a robust grin.

A pause sailed between the red-haired man and the brunette.

Ron replied, dryly, "I don't want a druggie near my kid, Harry. He'd be a bad influence."

"He's not smoking anything, Ron!" Harry said, scandalized.

"Uh-huh, say what you will, Potter!"

_Somewhere, where all the flowers grow and stretch, a little song will play to the dance of the wind. The melody of oblivion will circle around lovers, embracing them in the warmth of unconscious notes._

* * *

The End.

**Author's Notes: **I believe, officially this is my longest Harry Potter slash story. The last chapter was supposed to be a treat to everyone who stuck by and didn't really want the story to end. Therefore, the double chapter of doom! I hope it didn't end badly for anyone. Yes, the boy's did adopt a little Asian orphan. They couldn't very well birth their own child after all! Um, if you have any question about this story or something was off or amiss, go ahead and tell me in the review. I don't like flames, but if you feel the need, go ahead. It spurs me to write better and even more!

I love you all for sticking with me through Melody of Oblivion. I will try to write another story soon and if anyone has an idea that they would like me to try to write, go ahead a email me!

Lots of love, Yarisha.


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